As I sat there,
I prayed to be drenched in sunshine,
that if I closed my eyes tightly enough,
the blades beneath me would soften into clouds
that would lift me closer to the sky
where I could paint all the things I wanted to paint
— splashes of crimson and violet and lavender
seeping cerulean, viridian greens dripping into oceans,
transatlantic art,
bursts of vermilion, bittersweet, persimmon orange,
screaming yellows: school bus, saffron, highlighter
rage, neon rage
exploding, constantly exploding —
without anyone
telling me
it was too much
to handle.